


Scenes [2 of 5]

by lone_lilly



Category: Castle
Genre: F/M, Kink, Pegging, Restraints
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-29
Updated: 2012-04-29
Packaged: 2017-11-04 12:35:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/393894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lone_lilly/pseuds/lone_lilly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>five scenes without a plot to call home makes a story</p>
            </blockquote>





	Scenes [2 of 5]

**Author's Note:**

> Kink tag: [pegging](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pegging_%28sexual_practice%29). If the idea of Kate Beckett wearing a strap-on squicks you out, please skip this one! Scenes III will be more vanilla, I promise. Fits the prompt _09\. restraint_ [here](http://la-scapigliata.dreamwidth.org/). Also, this one kind of ended up with a plot-like thing. Oops.

  


**Title:** Scenes [2 of 5]  
 **Author:** [](http://lone-lilly.dreamwidth.org/profile)[**lone_lilly**](http://lone-lilly.dreamwidth.org/) || [](http://onlylonelilly.livejournal.com/profile)[**onlylonelilly**](http://onlylonelilly.livejournal.com/)  
 **Fandom:** _Castle_  
 **Pairing:** Castle/Beckett  
 **Rating:** NC-17  
 **Spoilers:** through season 4 although no real spoilers  
 **Summary:** five scenes without a plot to call home makes a story  
 **Notes:** Kink tag: [pegging](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pegging_%28sexual_practice%29). If the idea of Kate Beckett wearing a strap-on squicks you out, please skip this one! Scenes III will be more vanilla, I promise. Fits the prompt _09\. restraint_ [here](http://la-scapigliata.dreamwidth.org/). Also, this one kind of ended up with a plot-like thing. Oops.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

II.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  
_I'm gonna burn for you. You're gonna melt for me._   


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

She knows what he's done. She can see right through this list of his, which he gave her in the middle of the precinct-- the _precinct_ , for God's sake-- and she kind of wants to laugh at how obvious he is but she still wants to pinch him for handing this to her while she's at work. On a case. When she doesn't even have time to read it thoroughly let alone agree to anything.

After she refused to help him work through the more dangerous items on his original bucket list he'd begged her to help him with his...other list. The one he made just for the two of them. She'd agreed to take a look, thought he'd present it to her sometime when they were in bed, or better yet, thought he'd just tell her what he wanted when they were in the middle of making it happen anyway.

She should have known better.

Instead, he had caught her on her way out of the break room, handed her his list like it was a suspect's address and it had taken every ounce of strength not to let her eyes widen at his requests. Or punch him, for that matter, because seriously, what was he _thinking_ bringing this here?

But she does have to give him props for padding it the way he has. She used to do it with her Christmas list every year when she was little. Stick the things she wanted most between things she'd known she'd never get in a million years. Like strategically placing Barbie's Dream House between a pony and an iguana so her parents would know she wasn't kidding around about that Dream House (although if she had gotten that iguana she would have been just as happy).

Castle has done the same thing. She's pretty sure he knows damn well she will never let him get her off in the middle of an interrogation, but she _might_ be willing to let him in the squad car on a stakeout. Maybe. Not that she'll let him know that or he'd be all over her every time they got in the car and that is a thing that _will not_ happen.

"Number five," she says, picking the most extreme request as she hands him back the list, watching his eyes drop to the page before she walks past him. "Get what we need."

She doesn't have to look over her shoulder to know what his expression looks like. If he was bluffing, she just called it. And if he wasn't, well.

She's up for the challenge.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

He brings a box to her apartment a few weeks later, slides it under her bed without a word about it. She doesn't have to ask. She knows what's inside.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

They don't talk about it again. She inspects the box later when she's alone, tries things on, does her research. If they're going to do this, it's going to be done the safe way. She's never tried this before but the idea has a certain appeal. It surprises her how much she is looking forward to it, actually. She never would have... if he hadn't... but now she finds herself thinking about it when they're together. When they're not. She thinks about it a lot. Fantasizes.

She really, really wants to do it.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The day he almost dies-- it's the first time he's been in trouble since they've been together and she's not even _with_ him when it happens. There is a shoot-out at a gas station, he's there being stupid and brave, talking the shooter down, trying to save everyone and she doesn't even _know_ about it until two people are already dead-- that's the day she finally decides it's time. She needs him, needs to be a part of him, she needs to be _inside_ him. Maybe then she can keep him safe, make him bullet-proof from the inside out.

"Come over," she begs, her voice raw on the phone. He'd gone home after she had made sure he was fine. Martha and Alexis needed him, needed to see he was okay too, so she'd let him go. Gave them space. But now. Now she keeps closing her eyes and picturing him lying on the floor in a pool of blood and she just. She just _can't_.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"I'll be right back," she murmurs, pressing a kiss between his shoulder blades before she climbs out of her bed. "Stay here."

"Thought I might," he says dryly, shakes his wrist so the chain between the leather cuffs clinks against itself. He turns his face against the pillow so he can watch her and for a moment she just pauses at her bathroom door, taking him in.

"Hurry up. It's cold," he whines and she purses her lips, trying not to huff out a laugh as he promptly breaks the spell between them.

"You'll be okay," she rolls her eyes, and he will right? He's going to be okay. The robbery was a fluke. He was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. He's fine now. He's there, naked in her bed. Safe.

The box of things he had bought her--them-- is in her bathroom waiting on her. She'd stashed it in her linen cupboard before he'd showed up. Except the leather cuffs and now he's wearing those because she doesn't need him to touch her for this. And he would, he would make it about her and that's not what she wants. Not _today_.

She takes her time changing, double-checking buckles, studying her reflection in her mirror. She knows he's waiting for her to come back but she doesn't rush into things like this. She doesn't want to hurt him. Everything has to be perfect. (And she can't stop _staring_. The idea had turned her on but the reality of it is just. So much _more_.)

She ties her robe around her waist-- the short, purple silk one he bought her for her birthday-- and takes one last glance at herself before exiting the bathroom. She's ready.

"Finally," Castle groans in exasperation, his face buried in the crook of his arms. She wonders if he doesn't look back at her on purpose. "I was starting to think you'd left me here."

"Crossed my mind," she teases as she crawls onto the bed, straddles his hips, settling her weight carefully on his ass. The lapels of her robe spread open, falling to the sides of her thighs, letting the thing between her legs bulge obscenely out. It's a little absurd, she has to admit, looking down at the purple silicone dildo standing proudly at attention. She'd had to laugh when she had seen what color Castle had picked out for her until she'd thought about how that must have gone down, Castle surfing the internet (or had he bought it in person?) for a toy for her-- for them _both_ \-- and was he hard when he'd done it or had that come later, like it had for her, when he'd had it in his hands?

"Are you nervous?" she asks softly, leaning forward to knead her hands against his trapezius muscles, letting the dildo brush against his back. She feels a shiver ripple down his spine when he realizes what she's wearing, and she shifts on his hips, inadvertently pressing the thicker end nestled inside her farther up. Deeper.

_Christ._

"No," he says calmly, peering at her over his shoulder. "I trust you."

A small smile tugs at her mouth, a wave of relief shuddering through her as she drops down to press a kiss against his shoulder. She could have lost him today. She could have... _He_ could have... But he didn't and he's here and he trusts her and she really needs to get a grip.

Pushing herself back onto her heels, she resumes his massage, working her fingers deep into his warm skin, feeling the tightness of his muscles melting away underneath her hands. "Is your safeword still 'apples'?"

"Now I'm nervous," he squeaks and she laughs, slapping his shoulder, making him shout his safeword prematurely. She doesn't know how he knows to do that, how he always knows exactly when she needs him to cut the tension, put her at ease, and the fact that he can make her laugh when she's sitting astride him wearing a strap-on is one of the things she loves most about him.

"I'm serious, Castle," she hisses, digging her knuckle into a tender spot on his side. "If you need me to stop-"

"I won't."

"But if--"

"Kate," he says firmly enough to bring her gaze up to his again and she sees the dark flash of desire reflected back at her. "I _won't_."

"Okay," she nods, bites her lip against the urge to squirm against him. Her fingers dance down his back and she chases them with her mouth, her teeth grazing against the taut skin of his scapulae, her tongue teasing the fleshy pads over his lumbarsacral muscles.

She works his first (real, not exaggerated) groan from him when her fingers curl into the base of his spine and she laps at the dimples over his ass, nibbling, her fingers drifting lower, lower, skimming the edges of his thighs until he parts them for her, bending one knee out.

"Yeah, like that," she breathes, her thumb stroking the inside of his thigh as she stretches over him to gather what she needs from the bedside table. The makeshift cock bumps against his hip and they both feel it, both of them sighing at the contact. She'd lubed her end before inserting it but she realizes now it was probably unnecessary, there's nothing about this that's not working for her right now.

She snaps on a blue glove, the kind she keeps in her car for crime scenes, the kind she will never, ever be able to look at again with out remembering this, Castle, all of it.

"Okay?" she asks him because he's so much quieter than she expected him to be, than he usually is, than he _ever_ is. She waits for him to answer, waits for his thick _yeah_ to break the silence before she opens the bottle of lube and squirts some on her finger.

"Have you ever done this before?" she asks him as she presses her finger against him, massages him there as she drapes herself against his back, wanting to know and not wanting to know at the same time. He's so quiet she thinks this has to be new for him, but then what if it's not, what if he's _comparing_ this to another time, measuring her up against--

"No," he chokes out, half a groan and she rewards him for that, pushing a little farther and making him make this _noise_ that is the single hottest thing she's ever heard, like _ever_. "I've never. I didn't even think--"

"I know," she smirks, shifts against him so she can slide her lips over his ear as her finger slowly slides home. "That's why I said yes."

"I see," he manages in a tone that she supposes is supposed to be nonchalant, like she isn't working her finger inside him, opening him wider so she can fuck him. Except it kind of loses all of its illusion when he makes that noise again before he even finishes.

"Jesus, Castle," she warns him, bending her own leg over his thigh, mirroring his position, as she inserts another finger, feels the tight muscle give under the pressure and his hips rock against her sheets. "You act like it feels good or something."

"It feels amazing," he groans and the chain clinks as he reaches for her headboard, his face pressed against his elbow. She kisses his neck, lapping up the bead of sweat that's gathered there already. " _You_ feel amazing."

"Do you think it could feel better?" she purrs and he says her name in a way that makes her throb, makes her thrust her hips into his, makes her want to do more than that. Over, over, and over.

But she takes her time, adding more lubricant before her third finger makes its way inside him, her free hand dropping to his waist to hold him down, keep him still because now he's not, not at all, and she has to wonder what he'll be like when she's really doing this, really fucking him.

"Tell me when you're ready for me," she breathes into his ear, her fingers pumping in and out against the rhythm his body is working.

"Soon," he swallows hard, gulps for air really, and it would be funny that she's brought him to this if it wasn't so damn hot. "I think you need to-- soon."

"Now?"

"Might be good."

She's the one who moans this time, the sound reverberating against his skin as she sits up, tears a condom open with her teeth, smoothes it down on her cock with her left hand. She doesn't manage quite as much finesse with the lubricant but who _cares_ if it's too much, that can't really be a bad thing, not for this, and she tosses the bottle aside, still in reach if he needs more.

"Relax," she tells him, still moving her fingers inside him gently, still stretching. "You're tensing up again."

He takes a deep breath and she feels it actually work a little, feels him deflate underneath her, become more pliant against her hand. She stills her fingers and brings the tip of the dildo up against her palm, pushes forward so, _so_ carefully as she slips her fingers out.

"That's right. Breathe through it," she murmurs soothingly, all of her focus concentrated on the purple toy pressing against him, watching his body resist, resist, and then accept at the same time he _growls_ this word that's not even a word, some made up language between wild animals, and she pauses just like that, the head of the dildo inside him. Letting him adjust.

"Oh, _Christ_ , Castle," she moans, watching, pushing forward a little more when he starts panting. A little more still. She has to stop but she doesn't want to, the sight of him taking her inside like that, the way it pushes deeper inside her when she moves, she's so _wet_ she just wants to thrust, thrust, but she fucking _can't_ yet.

Tearing off the glove, she throws it over the side of the bed, ignored now, useless. Her robe is next; she shrugs it off so it's just her now, and him, and she moves closer to him, farther in, one hand steadying the cock between them while the other strokes his hip possessively. He's hers, _hers_ God damn it, alive, and here and begging her now for more. She can do that. She can give him more.

Another push and she's all in, all in (well, yeah, she's been all in this for awhile, hasn't she? Longer than she realized. Four years longer), and--

"Lift your hips a little."

\--and he does so she can cover his back with her body, protecting him, finding his ear again, his cheek, his neck, pressing wet, open-mouthed kisses anywhere she can reach as she begins to thrust.

"Is this what it feels like?" she wonders aloud, doesn't even mean to but she doesn't care. Not one bit. "When you're inside me?"

"Kate," he says again, she's noticed that's all he's really managing tonight, her name, but it works for her especially when he says it in this anguished voice like he has no idea what to do with the sensations she's making him feel right now.

He fucked her once and talked the whole time, told her a story, made her laugh, ran through the details like it was his grocery list, only a little breathless until he shut up to climax. And now she's left him nearly nonverbal. And rattling the headboard on her bed like it's his _job_ to break it. Thank God, that's an outside wall, not the one she shares with old Mrs. McClintock next door.

"I'm so close," she tells him, each word hot on his ear as she reaches one hand around his waist, finds his cock, making him hiss incoherently as she closes her fist around him. "Are you? Are you close too, Rick?"

It doesn't even surprise her that it's all it takes for him. That two, three thrusts later she feels the orgasm move through him, his whole body tightening underneath her before, his hips rocking furiously into her hand, against her own, exactly the force she needs to coil her own release inside her, thick like a serpent ready to strike.

She feels his come hit her hand in a hot rush and she wishes she could see him, wishes but she can't so she presses her forehead to his shoulder, his fevered skin inflaming her own, and then she's there too, right there with him, biting down on the corded muscle against her lips as she shatters.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"You're really neat."

She snorts and curls into herself, tucked against his side like a little shrimp. She'd uncuffed him but that's as far as they'd gotten, well, as far as _she'd_ gotten because he hasn't moved at all. He's just lying there on his stomach, planking, and she guesses she's going to have to do _everything_ tonight because he doesn't seem to care at all if they cover up, or kick the pile of sex aids out of the bed, or anything.

"Yeah, well, you get yourself into another situation like you did today and the next time I cuff you to my bed it's going to go down a lot differently."

"Still waiting for you to get to the threat."

She smacks his ass as hard as she can, hard enough to make him yelp (although that's not very hard, honestly). "I'm serious, Castle. That was a stupid, stupid thing you did. You weren't even _armed_. You don't go face to face with a gunman when you've got nothing but a Mont Blanc in your pocket."

" _You_ would have," he accuses, turning over onto his side to face her, his arm slipping around her, up her back to comb through the damp strands of her hair.

"I have tactical training! Self-defense. It's my _job_ to diffuse situations--"

"I know," he cuts her off, leans in to kiss her until she gives in and kisses him back. That's the thing, now that they're together, he knows how to placate her a lot more easily. It's maddening.

"It was a really stupid thing to do," she murmurs, poking him in the sternum to emphasize her point.

"I know," he says again, kisses her again. Damn him.

"And you won't do it again," she tries when he releases her next.

"Fifty-fifty chance," he promises, his fingers drifting down the front of her body to begin working the forgotten strap-on harness from between their legs, somehow managing to jostle it more than when she'd put the damn thing on.

"Eighty-twenty," she glares.

"Seventy-thirty," he agrees with a firm nod.

"Fine," she relents, letting him roll her into the pillows behind her as he nuzzles her neck. "But you call for backup immediately."

"Deal."

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
